Snippet #1501211

On the battlefield, both armies clashed together over and over, too evenly matched to gain an advantage over one another. The commanders yelled orders, the trumpets called, and the warriors fought, but still they could not gain advantage one way or the other.
Along the edges of the battlefield, Mageria’s forces slipped along the main force of the battle, weaving in and out in order to distract the Blackpond forces. Here and there they brought down a target, but still they could not make much of a dent.

Swearing, Mageria brought her people around to gather them for another strike. They had worked their way around the back of the battle and for the most part the forces here were well rested and ready for anything that they might try. With swift hand signals she sent them left and right, keeping only a few men with her to continue to harass the rear flank.
“Captain!” One of her men pointed at a small rise a couple hundred feet from them. They were so close that she could clearly see the ornate armor of an officer. He seemed to be giving orders, a thought that bore out when the ranks of spear men pealed off to either side to push toward the Newhaven forces on either side. The rise was only lightly defended from the back, and with a strong enough push they might be able to take it with little casualties from the Newhaven side.
“Archers, take the left and right flank. Chargers, straight up the back. We only have one chance at this, so let’s do it right. Take the commander alive if we can.” She settled her helm firmly on her head and pulled her sword, grimly preparing herself for the coming moments.

Working quickly Mageria and her men moved back through the forests, their mounts making quick work of the underbrush. She waited until they were all ready, really only a moment, but it felt like so much longer. She checked left, then right, and raised her sword. Wait one more moment, and then she brought it down sharply, leading a sudden charge forward, directly toward the mostly unprotected rear of the Blackpond forces. From either side of her, she could hear the twang of the archer’s bows, and the steady hoof beats of the men beside her. A few men went down, but for the most part the Blackpond forces were too surprised to put up much of a fight. Mageria and her men managed to break through the spear men, using the weight of their warhorses to take the advantage. After that it was only a few feet to the officer, who turned and raised his own sword, gleaming in the light.

Mageria brought her own weapon around, fighting with every ounce of her skill to try and subdue the commander. She didn’t think that she could do it without killing the man, which she truly didn’t want to do. But at that moment, one of her other men must have seen her trouble. He pulled forth a sling, not the most noble of weapons, but one that was eminently useful. He swung once, twice about his head and let it fly. The stone flew true and fast, whizzing through the air to strike the commander full in the helm. Stunned, he dropped his sword and staggered for just a moment. Mageria seized her chance and sheathing her sword, she leaned over and with a scream of effort grabbed the man and hauled him to lay across the saddle in front of her. Wheeling about, she charged back into the forest, her men on either side of her. Working her way back toward the protected flank of the Newhaven forces, she could hear the Blackpond solders starting to fall apart with the loss of their commander. It was the best that she could have hoped for.

Once they reached relative safety, she sent one of her men to report to Captain Krander. He worked his way through the guards that Captain Mageria had insisted on in her paranoia.
“Captain!” He saluted and struggled to get his message out, still winded from the fight.
“Captain Mageria sent me to tell you that she has captured the Commander of the Blackpond forces. She’s withdrawing back to where it’s safer, and suggests that you do so as well. She believes that the Blackpond forces will falter without their leader and that a small force will be able to hold them off.” He pulled off his helm and pulled out a water flask, drinking thirstily.
“She also suggests that capturing the Commander is a far worse blow to moral than we could strike in any other way.” He swayed slightly in his saddle, battle fatigue starting to catch up with him.